


mostly void, partially stars

by Setkia



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aren't You Glad My Weird Tags Are Back?, Being a Starship Captain is Lonely, Being a Vulcan-Human Hybrid is Hard, I'm Not Just Talking Romantic-Styles Feels, I'm Talking Oh Shit I Feel Sadness and Joy and Anger and I Do Not Know What to Do, In The Sense of I've Never Seen It But I Know It's Got Letters and Falling in Love Through Letters, Jim Has Anxiety, Jim and Bones Are Friendship Bros and Goals, Jim is A Good But Nervous as Fuck Captain, Letters, M/M, No One Can Hear You Scream in the Vacuum of Space So Just Let Go, Plot Low-Key Makes Me Think of You've Got Mail, Slow Burn, Spock Has Feelings And Doesn't Know What To Do With Them, Spock's Peers Are Dicks, Surak Did Not Prepare Him For This, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: All the other kids wrote to Santa. Jim wrote to the Man on the Moon.One day, he wrote back.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my new project, once _I Like You A Latte_ is done, which won't be for another few months. I KNOW this is premature posting, but I really wanted to know what you guys think of it, so please comment if you've got time. The title comes from _Welcome to Night Vale_.

Jimmy Kirk is six when he writes his first letter to the Man on the Moon.

The others in the class laugh at him, but the teacher said he could write to whoever he wanted, and maybe he doesn’t feel like making a second wish-list to Santa, maybe he wants to know how the Man on the Moon is. He doesn’t think he gets lots of mail.

So when they hand him a piece of paper and a pencil, telling him to make sure it’s neat and clear so that it’ll be easy to read, he plans out his words very carefully.

He has a lot he wants to say.

He wants to tell the Man about how, a few months ago, he looked up at the sky and saw it for the first time and _understood_.

It’s not a giant decorated blanket with intricately woven patterns in its fabric, it’s a quilt that tells legends and stories and histories alike. It tells the future and the past, and it has seen every important event in history, and many unimportant ones.

Jim wants to tell the Man about his mother, who told him more about the dots in the sky when he asked. About how she grinned and pulled him into her lap, running her hands through his hair as she told him the stories of each and every constellation she could remember, pointing to them as she went along. He wants to ask if the Man saw him on his front porch, if they ever accidentally made eye-contact.

He wants to tell the Man on the Moon about the recreation of the sky on his ceiling, a gift from Mom that she regretted when he stayed up late just staring at the endless stories, until she scolded him to turn off the flashlight and go to sleep.

Jim wants to tell the Man on the Moon about how the first story Mom ever told him was about him, the man who lives in the craters amongst the multitude of stars. He wants to tell the Man that he’s his favourite bedtime story, the adventures of the Man on the Moon, who gets to touch the stars and sing lullabies to them every night. He wants to say he’s coming to see him soon, once he figures out how to get into Starfleet.

He wants to tell the Man on the Moon about what Earth is like, and how cool it is, but probably not as cool as the stars, and he has so many questions about what it’s like up there, and if he’s got room in his favourite crater for another.

He has so many questions and not enough words, not a big enough vocabulary, and only one sheet of paper, and the teacher is asking for their papers back, so he scribbles down the most important thing.

_hi man on the moon,_

_don’t be lonely up there, okay?_

_jimmy_

Jimmy Kirk is six when he writes his first letter to the Man on the Moon.

It is not his last.


	2. part i: one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re the captain now.”
> 
> It takes everything he has not to scream _I know, isn’t this amazing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE’S SOME INFO:
> 
> If you’re reading this because you read _I Like You A_ _Latte_ and enjoyed it, great, but do not expect the same things. I have another story idea that is similar in feel to _Latte,_ which I am also currently writing on the side, little scenes of nothingness to help me de-stress, but I don’t know if I’ll post it/when.
> 
> So here’s what you need to know about _mostly void, partially stars_ , and if you like what you know, continue on forward!
> 
> STORY WISE:
> 
> Jim is 26-27 (I label this under AOS because I can't imagine a young Shatner below the age of 33, but feel free to imagine him however you want)
> 
> Personalities will be the product of headcanons a lot, but will probably coincide ideologically with  _Latte_ like personalities
> 
> Spock is 28-29, and has never met Jim, nor has he encountered humans beyond his mother.
> 
> The story is broken into 3 parts
> 
> It focuses on world building
> 
> Slow burn means _slow burn_
> 
> Themes will include:  
>  **isolation**  
>  **xenophobia within your own species (Spock)**  
>  **loneliness**  
>  **wonder at the stars**  
>  **the scariness and also comfort of the vastness of space**  
>  **losing child-like innocence**  
>  **coming of age**  
>  **teamwork**  
>  **coming to terms with the self**  
>  **learning to take on leadership roles & responsibility **
> 
> There will be humour, but also slightly unsettling things of a different variety than what happened in _Latte_
> 
> UPDATES WISE:
> 
> Chapter length will vary, but will most likely be longer than those in _Latte_.
> 
> Because the outline is in a very much “this needs to happen before this can happen” format, updates are gonna be … weird, to say the least.
> 
> I was thinking space opera when I planned it.
> 
> THIS IS NOT THE BEGINNING OF A REGULAR UPDATE SCHEDULE.I figured, since my prologue tells you shit all, I’d give you this to get a general feel for the story.
> 
> I am still working on my _Haikyuu_ story, and will be for the next few months. After that is finished, I will begin to update this story on a fairly regular basis.
> 
> I will be starting university next year, so updates are most likely going to be a monthly thing (depends how my creativity ends up working out, and how much work I have).
> 
> That all being said, I hope you enjoy!

_part i: tracing his way through the constellation_

_one_

  
Three years of rigorous studying, highlighter-stained cheeks and close calls with caffeine-flavoured mouth wash later, he stands in front of a ship he gets to call _his_.

Starfleet Captain James Tiberius Kirk.

Pike called him crazy for attempting the four year course in three. There were days Jim believed him, but when it got tough, he’d climb to the roof and name everything he saw. It was probably against the rules, but it kept him sane. Whispering the stories Mom told him reminded him what it was all for. To see the space between the stars.

_Worth it. More than worth it._

He’s got a crew of over four hundred, and as one of the youngest members onboard, there’s bound to be rumours. He’s heard some, about how he’s a brat who bought his way up the ranks to be the youngest ever to hold the title. They don’t know about the three jobs he worked and the jars and jars filled with every loose coin he found to pay for Starfleet. He doesn’t plan on telling them.

But he gets why they’re suspicious. _He’s_ not even sure Pike knows what he’s doing, giving him such a high up position.

And that’s what it feels like. A position he’s been handed. By the time the five year mission is over, he’s going to have earned it too.

The ship’s beautiful. The USS Enterprise, NC-1701, model C. He’s breathless just looking at it. He’s seen models, he’s _built_ models, scaled down versions of some of the fleet’s ships, but to have one of his _own …_ He had never dreamed he’d ever have such a rank. The goal was to get to the stars.

Taking a deep breath, he steps into his new home for the next 1825 days.

And trips over his own feet.

“Whoa there! Bit eager, aren’t you?”

The man gripping his arm is familiar. He’s seen him around campus, but never got his name. Social life took a severe backseat during the years at the Academy.

“You could say that.” Considering he’s been waiting nearly twenty years for this, that’s putting it lightly but he barely knows the man and doesn’t think he’d appreciate being waxed poetic about supernovas and event horizons, so he bites his lip and mumbles a “thanks”.

“No problem.” The man holds out a hand. “Leonard McCoy, I’m—”

“The chief medical officer, I know.” Oh, that sounded cocky. He doesn’t mean to sound cocky. It’s just he was so anxious about his new title, he read through the basic profiles of all crew members the night before and took special note of those who fall closest to him in the chain of command.

“Erm, yes.” He’s got a Southern accent, Jim’s just noticed, and more wrinkles in his face than he probably should. “You one of those space nuts eager to get shot off into the vacuum without oxygen?”

“You don’t like space,” Jim says in awe.

“I don’t not like space. I’m fucking _terrified_ of it,” says McCoy. “Do you know how many things there are up there that can kill you?”

Jim shakes his head numbly.

“Neither do I. It’s that immense.”

“So why are you going?”

McCoy grins. “Someone’s gotta keep the Captain alive, right? And who are you, then?”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” **_I_** _don’t believe me._

McCoy raises an eyebrow. “Try me, Kid. I’ve seen shit like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Well, I’m the one you’ve gotta keep alive.”

If Jim wasn’t so hyped up on nerves, he might find McCoy’s expression to be funny.

“ _You’re_ the captain?”

“Er, yes.”

McCoy frowns. “Stand up straight then. Can’t expect anyone to follow your orders if you slouch like that.”

“Right. Well, I er, I’ve got a document with all my allergies and a record of my medical history ready for you, so just say the word and it’s yours.”

McCoy whistles. “I’m impressed.”

Jim flushes. He feels like the over-eager kid on the first day of school. It’s not an inapt description, to be perfectly honest.

He knows, in theory, the layout of the entire ship. He’s seen the blueprints, knows each corridor like the back of his hand from countless nights of studying and giggling to himself. It’s an entirely different experience to be _in_ the flesh staring at everything. The hallways are sort of narrow, but he doesn’t mind it. The loud hum of the engine, the slight shaking of the ship beneath his feet … He wants to jump up and down to test gravity, but just barely holds himself back.

There are people walking by him, yeoman, and engineers, and people in red shirts and blue shirts and yellow shirts, and he’s totally losing his shit like he’s some kid at an amusement park. He’s sure his grin is getting unsettling to McCoy, who guides him by the shoulder.

“Time to meet the ship, Captain.”

He almost feels drunk off the word.

He's lead through the entirety of the ship slowly. Maybe he lingers a bit long, and asks too many questions. He's just  _so excited_ , his body is thrumming with excitement. He can barely believe that he's  _standing in a ship he gets to call his own_.

McCoy takes him to the engineering room. It’s full of red shirts, with one in particular commanding the group.

“Montgomery Scott?”

The man looks up, eyebrow raised. “Call me Scotty. And if yer don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

“This is James Tiberius Kirk,” says McCoy, slapping a hand on Jim’s back. “He’s your captain.”

“Really?” Montgomery Scott — Scotty— tilts his head. “You don’t look like much.”

“Er, well, no.”

Scotty rolls his eyes. “I’m teasing ya, Captain. Youngest of yer rank in history, huh? Must’ve gotten it for something. Happy to serve ya.” And then he salutes.

Jim feels like a tin man as he lifts his own arm to salute back. “Er, yes! Well, I’ll try to be likeable so as to avoid you leading us into black holes.”

“I like ya already, sir.”

“Jim, please,” he insists.

“Not while on duty,” says Scotty. “You’re the captain now.”

It takes everything he has not to scream _I know, isn’t this amazing?_

“Well, we’ve got places to go, things to see.”

“Ah, but I wanted to ask a few questions—”

“You can ask them later, Kid, he’s your employee,” McCoy says gruffly, though not unaffectionately. “Don’t you want to see the bridge?”

Does he ever.

“Er, Scotty? Rain check? I want a run down of the warp drive and the state of all the current motherboards and systems that’s keeping us alive.”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

McCoy leads him through to the bridge and he tries not to act like a child on Christmas morning. He runs his fingers over every counsel, surprised when his fingers make contact.

This is _real_. It sure as hell doesn’t _feel_ real, but it’s where he is now.

He sits in the Captain’s Chair and runs his fingers along the armrests. It’s like he’s stepping into too-big shoes. It’s just a seat, but it feels much heavier than that, and the responsibility weighs down on him heavily.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe he’s not cut out for this. He’s just a kid who wanted to touch the giant balls of gas that surround the Earth, what does he know about leading a team?

He goes to his room and unpacks, trying to push back the nagging feeling that he’s unprepared, unfit for the job he’s been given. He carefully sets all his books in a shelf, arranges his clothing and plugs in his PADD to charge. He programs a password into his door and when it’s all done, and _only_ when it’s all done, does he look out the window.

There it is.

Everything he’s ever wanted to see, up close. They don’t look all that different than they did on Earth, and he was scared it would feel underwhelming, but it’s _perfect_. Knowing he’s completely surrounded by the stars changes _everything._

He takes out a fresh piece of paper, and smooths out the crinkles. With a shaky hand, he writes another letter.

_Hey Man on the Moon,_

_Nearly there, bud._

He sleeps perfectly the first night he’s surrounded by the stars, lulled to rest by the hum of the engine.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on my [Tumblr](https://setkia.tumblr.com)!  
> Or e-mail me setkia.writer@gmail.com!  
> I love talking to readers, seriously! Aside from time differences causing a delay, I'll always reply!


End file.
